The Magnificent Masquerade (14 page)

He looked at her intently. "Yes, I would
say you're a bit strange. You're very glib in English, too."

His suspicious expression warned her that
things were coming very close to a crisis, but Kitty was nothing if not
inventive in a crisis. "That's because I'm not always going to be an
abigail," she improvised smoothly. "Miss Marchmont, at the academy,
is training me to be a teacher."

"Oh, I see." His lordship, accepting
her words as a perfectly logical explanation of her peculiarities, studied her
with renewed interest. He was not surprised that she had aspirations beyond her
present situation; even yesterday, when she'd laughed aloud in the dining room,
she'd seemed to him to be gifted with an intelligence and spirit beyond what
one usually found in a housemaid. And now, in the candlelight, with her cap
askew on the most glowing hair he'd ever seen and the flame of the candle
reflected in a pair of laughing eyes, she appeared to him to exude a pixieish,
almost magical charm. "A teacher, eh?" he remarked, suddenly finding
himself quite willing to dally for a bit. "Is that what you wish for your
future?"

"Yes, I think so." She was quick to
recognize the spark of interest in his eyes, and she felt her pulse quicken.
Was it relief that he was no longer suspicious of her, she wondered, or was it
something more? "Teaching is a promising career for someone like me, don't
you agree?" she asked, hoping to hold his attention for a little while
longer. "I'd earn both independence and respect."

"But what about happiness? Do you think
teaching will make you happy?"

"I can't tell about that. Not yet."

He smiled down at her. "Most girls your
age dream of finding themselves a handsome young husband, not independence and
respect.”

"Husband, faugh!" she exclaimed with
so violent a toss of her head that the orange-red braid flipped like a horse's
tail. "I shan't think of marriage for years. Besides, I don't think I'm
suited for it."

"Why not? You certainly seem suited for
it." "Oh, no, not I." Her eyes twinkled enticingly in the
candlelight. "I'm much too flighty."

One of his eyebrows lifted in amusement.
"But not too flighty for teaching, eh?"

This gave her pause. Her face fell. "Are
you saying that you don't think I'd be suited for teaching?"

"It's hard to say on so short an
acquaintance. But if first impressions are significant, I would think
not."

"Really, my lord?" she asked,
pretending to take offense.

"Why not?"

"Anyone who throws herself into a strange
man's arms with such wild abandon does not seem to me to have the steadiness of
character necessary for teaching."

"It wasn't a strange man's arms!" She
turned her luminous eyes up to his face and added softly, "I knew it was
you." There was something in her voice ... in those eyes ... that made him
catch his breath. The girl was captivating. If it occurred to him, somewhere
deep in his mind, that this surge of feeling was completely inappropriate for
the master of a noble household toward a servant who was no more than a child,
he did not let the thought surface. He simply permitted himself to enjoy the
sight of her and indulge in what was nothing but harmless banter. "I hope
your pupils will not be little boys," he teased.

"Oh? Why do you say that?"

"Because in your presence they will never
be able to concentrate on their books." He continued to stare down at her,
noting the tiny freckles scattered over her nose and the fullness of her mouth
that seemed curved into a tiny but permanent smile. Aware that he was in some
way hypnotized, he nevertheless had no desire to shake himself loose. Either
the candlelight was having a peculiar effect on him, he decided, or the girl
was a witch.

"Is that meant to be a compliment, my
lord?" she asked, the corners of her mouth turning up even more.

"I suppose it is." He shook his head
admiringly. "Do you realize that there must be more than a thousand
ringlets escaping from your braid? Here, hold this!"

The order confused her. "What?"

He didn't answer but merely thrust his candle
into her hand. Then, still feeling spellbound, he slowly tilted her head up and
straightened her crooked cap.

She blinked, completely disarmed by the
sweetness of the unexpected gesture. "Thank you, my lord," she
murmured.

They stared at each other for a moment until he
shook himself awake. "Now, why did I do that? You're only going to bed
anyway."

She put a hand up to her cap. "I'm sure I
couldn't say, my lord."

"No, I didn't think you could." He
peered at her a moment more and then blinked to break her spell on him. In a
manner that said that this business had gone quite far enough, he took his
candle from her hand, said a brisk good night, and set off down the hall. But
after taking three strides he stopped. "Tell me the truth, Emily
Pratt," he said, turning back for a final look at her, "was there a
rat?"

"Yes, my lord," she said with utmost
sincerity, "there certainly was."

He grinned. "A really big one, eh?"

"Oh, yes, my lord. Enormous." And
with another bobbing curtsey, she turned on her heel and pranced off down the
stairs.

Chapter Thirteen

The next morning dawned rainy and cold. Emily,
standing at the window of her sumptuous bedroom and gazing out at the grim,
gray sky, found herself wishing that she were back at Miss Marchmont's school.
At school her days, even dreary days like this, were full of activity. Here at
Edgerton, luxurious as it was, there was almost nothing for her to do except to
feel wretched.

Of course, there was no real reason for her to
feel wretched. What difference did it make that the revolting Toby didn't like
her? What did his opinion matter, anyway? He was nothing to her, not in her real
life. If she'd met him as herself, as Emily Pratt, he would have taken no more
notice of her than he would of a housefly crawling on the wall. What made it
more humiliating, however, was that even at her best wearing Miss Jessup's
loveliest gown and playing the piano in her very best form-she had put him to
sleep. But why should she feel humiliated? The blame was more his than hers.
After all, even Lord Edgerton himself had admired her that night, and anyone
could see that his lordship had more intelligence and taste in his little
finger than the odious Toby had in all his body! Besides, in little more than a
week this adventure would be over, and she would never again lay eyes on Tobias
Wishart. Why could she not dismiss him from her mind?

Wishing to avoid the unpleasant feelings that
Tobias Wishart managed to stir up in her, she determined to banish all thoughts
of him by concentrating, instead, on Alicia. She sat down on the window seat
and reviewed in her mind the scene in Alicia's bedroom the day before.
Remembering Alicia's woebegone expression when Dr. Randolph had left her room,

Emily was again struck by the obviousness of
the woman's adoration of her doctor. When Kitty arrived to help her dress,
Emily recounted to her all she'd learned about Alicia's situation. "I
think she truly cares for her doctor," Emily explained, "but
everything she does seems to irritate him. It's almost as if her illness were a
constant reproach to his medical abilities."

"But the doctor feels she isn't truly ill,
isn't that what you said?"

"Yes. It does seem as if her condition is
all in her mind. Of course, one can't be certain. Doctors have been known to be
wrong. That's why I'm not sure I did the right thing in advising her to pretend
to feel better."

"I think you gave her the very best of
advice," Kitty said  firmly. "Perhaps, if she pretends long
enough, the pretense will become real."

"That's what I hoped when I said it,"
Emily admitted, "but what if she really is more ill than the doctor
believes?"

"Then she'll be too ill to keep up the
pretense for long. I don't see that there's anything to lose. When the doctor
arrives today, let her greet him sitting up in a chair. That should give
matters a cheerful start. I say, Emily, why don't you bring her my Prussian-red
dressing gown to wear? It will give her cheeks a glow."

"Oh, Miss Jessup, may I? It's so good of
you. That robe will be perfect!" She clapped her hands in enthusiasm.
"And I'll curl her hair with a hot iron, and ... and perhaps she'll let me
rub a bit of blacking on her lashes, and-"

"Just a minute, my girl," Kitty said,
holding up a warning hand. "Remember you're not an abigail. I cautioned
you be fore that you'd have to stop `doing' for people." Emily's
excitement faded- "Oh, dear, I did forget. I never dreamed that not doing
for people would be so difficult." She paced about the room for a moment
but then looked across at Kitty with a challenge in her eyes. "But wait,
Miss Jessup! Wouldn't you be doing something to help Alicia if you were in your
rightful place?"

"In my rightful place I probably wouldn't
have even noticed Miss Alicia's predicament." She sighed ruefully.
"It's strange, but acting as your abigail is making me see that I've been
a very self-centered creature all my days."

"Now, Miss Jessup, that's not so. At
school everyone thought you the most generous of friends. You were always
sharing your things and buying sweets for everyone, and-"

"That was nothing. I always had more pin money
than I needed. It's what's inside one that counts, and in my inside, I'm
afraid, there was never much thought of anyone beside myself. Just this
morning, when Miss Leacock came for me, it occurred to me that ..."
Kitty's face suddenly lit up. "Wait,Emily! I know how we can prettify Miss
Alicia. We can ask Miss Leacock to do it!"

"Miss Leacock?"

"She's Lady Edith's abigail. And she
dresses Miss Alicia, too. I can deliver the dressing gown to her and tell her
you sent it. I'll explain your scheme to her. I'll say that everyone knows
Kitty Jessup is a schemer; it will all be quite in character. I think Miss
Leacock will be delighted to bring a little color into Miss Alicia's
life."

Emily threw her arms about her friend.
"Oh, Miss Jessup, that will be just the thing! I don't know how to thank
you!" Kitty, having already rummaged through the clothes chest and pulled
out the dressing gown, bustled to the doorway with it. "You might thank
me, Miss Jessup, by calling me Emily. I'm Emily, remember?"

Emily spent the morning pacing through the
downstairs rooms, wondering how Alicia was faring. She kept herself from going
up to call on the bedridden woman, fearing that she would find herself tempted
to curl Alicia's hair or rouge her cheeks. Emily, she told herself, you have to
stop thinking like a maid-of-all-work if you are to get through this visit
without giving yourself away.

Lord Edgerton discovered her in the empty
drawing room, staring longingly at the piano. His lordship was in the worst of
moods. He'd been out with his bailiff to inspect the work being done to
modernize his experimental dairy farm (a project in which he'd been interested
for several years), but he'd been driven indoors by the icy rain. Not only had
the weather interrupted his personal plan for the day but it presaged a long
delay in the exterior work on the buildings. He was in the act of ripping off
his riding gloves when his eye fell on her. "What is this, Miss Jessup?
Are you alone again?" he demanded, unable to mask his irritability.

Emily started. "Oh! Your lordship! I
didn't see ... g-good day to you," she stammered, dropping a little
curtsey.

"Why is it that I never see you with
company, ma'am? You must be finding your stay here very dull indeed. I really
must apologize to you. I've never known my family to be quite so inattentive to
their guests before."

"No, please, my lord, there's no need to
apologize. I don't expect everyone to dance attendance upon me every moment of
the day."

"Not every moment, no. And not everybody.
But one would think that by this hour someone would be down." He took a
deep breath to ease his frustration. "There's no need to tell me that
Alicia is, as usual, indisposed. But can Mama still be abed? And where the
deuce is Toby?"

“This is just the sort of morning one should
stay late abed," Emily assured him soothingly. "May I send for
Naismith, my lord, and order some tea for you? You must be chilled
through."

His irritation drained away, and he gazed at
her admiringly. "You are so good-natured, Miss Jessup, that you put me to
shame. Thank you. Tea would be most welcome, particularly so if you join me.
But tell me, my dear, why do I never see you at the piano? Surely a talent like
yours must have been developed by hours of practice. Don't you care to practice
here?"

"I would love to practice here,"
Emily admitted, "especially since I've never before played on so fine an
instrument.

But I was afraid I would disturb the household
with my noise."

"Disturb the household? Don't be foolish,
child. The walls are so thick that the sound couldn't carry very far. And as
for your `noise," as you call it, I fear that the only disturbance would
be that everyone would feel tempted to gather round the door to listen to your
music instead of attending to business. Please, Miss Jessup, I pray you, make
use of the instrument whenever and for so long as you like."

They had their tea, after which Lord Edgerton
excused himself. She must have flown to the piano immediately after he turned
his back, for he heard her first chords before he'd closed the door behind him.
He paused for a while at the door listening to her rendition of a Beethoven
sonata before forcing himself to depart. He had a mission that could not be
postponed.

A moment later he stalked into Toby's bedroom,
tore the covers from the bed, and yanked the stupefied Toby to his feet.
"You dashed bobbing-block," he ' swore between clenched teeth,
"where is your breeding? Have you no manners at all?"